A Life Worth Living
by Siggy
Summary: It's Christmas Eve and Gene is not a very happy man. As he staggers home he bumps into someone who is determined to make Gene see the error of his ways. A Christmas story with Gene, Alex, CID and..Santa. Spoilers for Ep 8. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**I felt the need to write something a bit upbeat and seasonal and so in a little break from my current story Rage Against Time, I decided to write this short ****Christmas story. Alright, so the first chapter may not be very upbeat but there will be a happy seasonal ending. **

**This story is not connected to Rage and so the characters are pretty much as we last saw them in series 2 – Alex was shot, Chris is still in the doghouse and Gene is not very happy.  
**

**There is bit of Dickens in here as well as other seasonal myths and stories. I hope you enjoy.**

**Also, my thanks to Al for her invaluable series 2 transcripts.**

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**Chapter 1 - Twas the Night Before Christmas**

Gene took another sip of whisky as he ruminated, feet propped up on his desk and an almost permanent pout upon his lips. Considering the date – Christmas Eve – he couldn't have been feeling less festive if he tried. He looked beyond the door and out into the main CID office where a sorry display of limp tinsel and distinctly un-festive garlands only served to highlight the distinct lack of Christmas cheer. It had been one bastard of a year – SuperMac dead, Chris' betrayal and Alex… He stared for a moment at the empty desk which stuck out like a sore thumb. No matter how quickly he looked away from that bleak reminder, he could see Alex's face contorted in pain as she fell to the ground, bleeding from the bullet wound that he had inflicted. He took another swig, uncaring that he had probably had too much to drink already. Well, it was Christmas wasn't it?

That empty desk was a painful everyday reminder of his loss. She wouldn't be back – gone forever. Oh, she was still alive alright – he hadn't quite managed to kill her. But in many ways it was ten times worse. She was still on sick leave and recuperating from her injuries but there was already talk of her transferring to another station – at her own request. It was the very least he deserved he supposed. There was a knock and the friendly face of desk sergeant Viv James peered around the door.

"Guv?"

"What?"

Viv took a deep breath and walked into Gene's office carrying a stack of files, carefully placing them on the desk. "For you."

"What the 'ell are these?"

"Some of DI Drake's old files. They need to be checked and sorted and then signed off by a senior officer."

Gene scowled at Viv's retreating back. "Fine. And what the bloody 'ells wrong with the heating. Soddin' freezing in 'ere."

"Boiler's on the blink. It's been reported but I don't know when it'll get fixed. I've got a couple of portable heaters I could bring around."

"Well you can bring me one – miserable bastards out there can freeze their bollocks off for all I care."

"Yes Guv." Viv quickly exited Gene's office and thanked his lucky stars he'd got off lightly. The Guv had never been an easy man to work for but since DI Drake had been shot he was nigh on impossible.

Gene instinctively pulled his overcoat closer around his body, even though external heat and cold seemed to have little influence on how he actually felt. Nothing could warm him and nothing could match the chill he already felt in his soul. The bitterest of winds left him untouched, the foulest of weather only seemed to match his mood. No one smiled at him in the street or stopped to pass the time of day. Even the down-and-outs steered well clear of him these days – one look at the expression on his face and they turned tail, picked up their meagre possessions and legged it to a safer pitch.

Gene didn't care. He saw people scurry away from him and he was glad. He was in no mood to make polite conversation these days so if everyone avoided him then so much the better. He felt no compelling need to engage with the rest of humanity. Bad things happened when he started to care – better for all if he kept himself to himself.

He scowled as watched the antics of the rest of CID; Ray smoking a cigar with his feet on his desk and reading a girlie magazine, Chris balancing a mince pie on his nose as everyone laughed at him, Shaz shaking her head at her husband's latest attempt to ingratiate himself with his colleagues - but smiling all the same. Useless twats the lot of them. Gene stood and picked up the stack of files that Viv had recently deposited and walked out into CID. An immediate hush fell and everyone suddenly found themselves work to do, or at least the pretence of it. Everyone except Chris that is, who continued to act the fool as the strains of "Lonely this Christmas" filled the air. Gene slammed down the files on Chris' desk with some force.

Chris gulped and turned to face Gene. "Guv?"

"Enjoyin' yerself?"

Chris shrugged. "Christmas isn't it Guv. I were just…"

"Yes. I can see what you 'were just' – you were just taking advantage of my kind nature by doing sod all as usual."

"But Guv…"

Gene pointed at the files. "I want those sorted before you leave today."

"But…"

"Yes Christopher?"

Chris was caught in the beam of Gene's flint grey eyes and he knew that he was doomed. "Nothing Guv," he mumbled.

"Good. Because by my reckoning, you should be the last person to complain about doing some honest hard work for a change. You wouldn't want to make me change my mind about giving you a second chance…would you?"

"No Guv." Chris shamefacedly lowered his eyes, but not before stealing a glance at his long suffering recent bride. Would he ever be forgiven for his lapse?

The tension was abruptly shattered by the distinct sound of a 'Ho, Ho, Ho,' and the entrance of a short, fat Italian restaurant owner dressed as Father Christmas, followed by a couple of waiters bearing mulled wine and mince pies.

"Buon Natale…Merry Christmas."

"What the f…"

"Sorry Guv," Viv said as he followed immediately behind Luigi, "he got past me."

"Merry Christmas," Luigi said again, his face bright with cheer and rosy-cheeked from the cold.

"Bollocks," Gene replied.

"Signor Hunt! You cannot mean that."

"Can't I? Bollocks to the lot of it. And what right 'ave you got to be merry anyway? You're bloody Italian for a start."

"And what give you the right to be miserable eh? You are a man in the prime of life, you are healthy…you have employment…you….

"Yeah well," Gene interrupted, "still a load of bollocks if yer ask me."

The rest of CID ignored the conversation and got stuck into the mince pies but more especially the mulled wine.

Luigi beamed genially. "Why you so angry Mr Hunt?"

"Angry? And why shouldn't I be angry when I'm surrounded by idiots? Christmas is just an excuse to spend money that you 'avn't got and all the while stuffing yer face and drownin' yer sorrows and 'oping tomorrow never comes. If I 'ad my way every tosser who goes about shouting 'Merry bloody Christmas' would be locked up and the key thrown away."

Luigi shook his head sadly.

"You do things your way Luigi and I'll do things mine."

"Yes but you _don't _do it, do you Mr Hunt. What you do tomorrow then?"

"None of your bloody business."

"I tell you," Luigi said, warming to his theme, "you sit alone in your flat all day by yourself. You drink all day and watch the tv – and you eat sausage and chips!" This last was uttered with such an air of pity and disdain, as though such a fate was beyond imagining.

Gene visibly winced. The picture Luigi painted was uncannily accurate. "And what good has Christmas ever done you then?"

"Good? I do not ask that it does me good. What I do now, I do for the joy of it. Is a sacred time of year – a joyous time. A time when men and women stop hurrying from place to place and they take time to speak to one another, they raise a glass and drink each others health. It does my heart good and so I say 'Il Dio benedice il Natale' – God bless Christmas."

Chris burst into applause. "'ere, 'ere."

Gene wheeled on him. "Shut it. You'd do well to remember you're 'ere on my say so DC Skelton. Another sound from you and you'll be out on yer ear." He turned to face Luigi, eyes narrowing with menace. "And as for you…"

Unconcerned and full of the Christmas spirit (or possibly a glass or two of Barolo), Luigi took Gene to one side. "Come tomorrow Mr Hunt – come and 'ave the real Christmas lunch with us."

"What? With you? Not bloody likely. You're probably 'aving some of that muck you call food – lasagne is it?"

"Not at all. I 'ave some English friends also and we have the traditional turkey and all the trimmings. Come and eat with us." He lowered his voice even more. "A certain beautiful signorina will be there too."

Gene felt an icy hand grip around his heart. As much as he wanted to see Alex he couldn't believe for one moment that she wanted to see him – and he didn't want to ruin her Christmas Day as well as his own.

"Bugger off Luigi."

"You Englishmen - you are so slow, so timid in the ways of love. Why you not come eh? Because she will be there? That is a nonsense."

"Really? Well excuse me for caring, but I don't really think the lady wants to be sitting down to eat with someone who nearly killed 'er!"

Luigi sighed expressively. "That was so many weeks ago now. She 'as forgiven you – she knows it was an accident. Please come?"

"Go away Luigi before I 'ave you arrested for loitering."

"Madre del Dio! You are such a fool. Still, I cannot force you – the invitation is there. Come or don't come – is up to you."

With final cries of 'Merry Christmas' and 'Buon Natale', Luigi and his waiters left CID, leaving behind a wreath of happy smiles – and one very unsmiling DCI.

"Right you lot – back to work."

"But Guv," Ray piped up, "it's Christmas beer o'clock - finishing time."

"In that case, bugger off the lot of you." There was a mass flurry as everyone packed their stuff away and reached for their coats. "Not you Christopher."

"Guv?"

"I want them files sorted – then you can go."

"Yes Guv." Chris sat down heavily, the air of dejection almost palpable in his demeanour. He watched as Gene went back into his office.

Shaz shrugged on her overcoat and walked over to Chris' desk. "I'm sorry baby."

"When is he ever gonna forgive me? I though this would 'av been over by now."

"It probably would have been but for the thing with DI Drake. I reckon that's really thrown him."

"Yeah, but he doesn't 'ave to take it out on us. Especially not at Christmas."

"I know. Look, I'm sorry lover but I've got to get home - you know your mum and dad will be arriving soon. Quicker you get those files done, the sooner you can come home."

Chris watched despondently as Shaz and the rest of CID left the office.

In his office Gene watched the world go by outside his window. At this time of the year it was dark already and a crisp frost was beginning to settle over the pavements and parked cars. Mothers and their children were hurrying by, laden with bags and parcels, desperate to get home and into the snug warmth of the family home. Office workers with a spring in their step, released from the drudgery of 9 to 5, poured into pubs and restaurants, keen to raise that final Christmas toast with their comrades before setting off for home and the promise that Christmas Eve inspired.

But not Gene. He watched with a cynical eye – as though these were creatures from another planet or a rare species under a microscope. They had nothing to do with him and he most certainly had nothing to do with them. He lost himself in a fog of whisky, thoughts of the dead SuperMac and the so very nearly dead Alex, uppermost in his head. Charlie Mackintosh had been a good man once but then he'd been corrupted by the so called humanity around him. A good man gone bad – what a waste. And Alex? His heart was torn when he thought of her. He had doubted her, let other people come between them and look what had happened – she had almost died because of him. No, best to keep other people out of his life and try and stay out of theirs. They only got hurt in the end.

Chris stood at the threshold of his office and cleared his throat. "Guv?"

"What?"

"I've finished them files –just need your signature now."

Gene stared disbelievingly at the clock, but sure enough the hours had flown by and it was now 7.00 pm.

Gene grunted as he observed the young DC. "Suppose you've got tomorrow off?"

Chris nodded nervously. "Just the one day Guv – I'm back in on Boxing Day."

"Oh joy. Looks like your lucky day Chris, cos I'm on duty Boxing Day an' all."

Chris gulped. "Right Guv."

"Go on then – get off with yer. Mind you're on time on Boxing Day."

"I will Guv." Chris grabbed his coat and ran out of the office as fast as his legs would carry him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alex dozed fitfully on the sofa as images of the recent past continued to haunt her.

"_I don't believe this. Where's me bleeding money?!"_

"_You're on your own, Jenette. Whatever he offered you to get between us, it was a lie. It's over, love."_

"No…please," Alex whimpered. Behind closed eyelids she could 'see' Gene aiming his gun at Jenette. Always there, always protecting.

"_Let her go."_

Alex braced herself for the shot that always came. "No!" Her eyes shot open just as the bullet penetrated her skin, and with heart racing and pulse pounding she forced herself to take deep breaths. "Just a dream Alex…same old dream." She rested her hand protectively over her stomach – the wound was healed now although still a little tender. Which was more than could be said of the wound to her heart. Nothing physical of course, just a deep ache that nothing seemed to touch. But before she could linger on that thought, she heard a firm rapping at the door.

It couldn't be – could it? With heart racing she walked towards the door. Although Gene had been keeping his distance since she had been discharged from hospital she still couldn't help wondering…hoping that he'd come.

"Buon Natale signorina!"

Alex tried not to let the disappointment show on her face. "Luigi. Merry Christmas to you too."

"Is Christmas Eve signorina and I bring the mince pies," he brandished a plate piled high with pies, "and mulled wine – a special recipe," he said with a wink, as he hurried forward into the flat and placed his offerings on the coffee table.

"Thank you so much Luigi – I really don't know what I would have done without you these past few weeks."

"Anyone with a heart would 'ave done the same. As I said to DCI Hunt…."

"You've seen him? Err, I mean you've been to the station?"

"Of course," he said with a twinkle, "although I don't know why. He has no Christmas in his soul."

"Oh?"

"He thinks he is angry," Luigi said sagely, "but he is not angry – he is sad I think."

"Oh." Alex sat down heavily on the sofa. "Sad about what?"

Luigi raised his eyes to the ceiling. Truly love is blind. "He is sad about you mia donna. He still feels guilty over what 'appened to you."

"But I told him that I didn't blame him – it wasn't his fault. Not really."

"Did you really tell him?"

Alex lowered her eyes. "Well, I meant to although it might not have come out like that." Truth be told, by the time she had woken from her coma and been fit enough for visitors, the moment for forgiveness seemed to have passed. And then she had wanted him to suffer for a while so she had delayed the inevitable conversation. It all seemed slightly petty now. "Is he downstairs?"

"No. He does not come here very often since…since that day. I have even invited him to come to dinner tomorrow but..."

"He won't come?"

"I don't think so, although the door is always open to 'im. You would not mind if he decides to come?"

"Me? Not at all. I think it's very kind of you to invite us to share your Christmas." And perhaps if Gene did come, it would present them with an opportunity to put aside their differences and talk.

Luigi beamed. "As they say in my country 'one enemy is too many and a hundred friends are not enough'.

Alex paused thoughtfully before replying. "You know Luigi – I think you could be right."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was late when Gene finally emerged from a smoky Soho bar onto a street which was crowded with punters – even at this late hour on Christmas Eve. He walked a little unsteadily, weaving his way through the drunken revellers, desperately trying to remember where he had parked the Quattro. He was drunk certainly, although not excessively by his own high standards and he couldn't understand why he couldn't seem to keep his footing. Looking down to the pavement and then up to the sky he quickly discovered the reason – snow! There was a thin covering already lying and by the look of the sky, still more to come.

"Great! Just what we need on Christmas Eve – bloody snow!" He increased his pace slightly, collar up and head down and totally ignoring everyone in his path – until something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A man dressed in red struggling under the weight of a very large sack. A very suspicious looking large sack.

"You 'ave got to be kiddin' me." Gene increased his pace to close the gap between them. "Oi! Santa! Police."

The jolly man in red, immediately turned towards the sound of the voice, but in doing so, failed to notice the car that was speeding towards him. However Gene did and with much cursing and swearing, broke out into a run, grabbed Santa by the scruff of the neck and pulled him clear. Unfortunately the snow underfoot, combined with the weight of not insubstantial man he had yanked backwards, combined to send Gene crashing to ground, his head making direct contact with the pavement.

"Bastard!" Gene slowly sat up and gingerly touched the back of his head and winced at the sight of blood on his fingers.

"My dear young sir – are you quite well?"

Gene looked up to see Santa looking down at him, his face creased into an expression of genuine concern. "I've 'ad better days."

"Here, let me help you up." He held out a gloved hand.

"No thanks – I think you've done quite enough for one day." Gene scrambled upright, still tentatively exploring the back of his head. "Name?" he barked.

The man laughed heartily and gestured towards his fetching red suit. "Santa Claus of course. You can call me Nick."

Gene raised a cynical eyebrow. "Pull the other one – its got bells on."

"Bells?" He looked puzzled for a moment before his face creased into a smile. "Oh yes, I see. Bells. Very good. Very good indeed."

"Now listen 'ere, whoever the bleedin' hell you are…."

"Santa."

Gene sighed. "Alright…Santa. Tonight is your lucky night."

"On the contrary good sir – I believe it is your lucky night."

"'ow d'yer reckon that?" Having now decided the red-suited fat man was harmless enough, Gene was keen to send him on his way.

"You saved my life and where I come from one good turn deserves another. All you have to do is ask. Now - what can I do for you?"

"For me?" Gene shook his head. "Let me give you a bit of advice Nick. You'd better steer clear of me. Bad things 'appen to people when they get too close."

"I don't believe that for one minute."

"S'true. Harry Woolf, SuperMac, Sam and now Alex." Gene sat back down on the pavement, uncaring of the wet snow beneath him. "Sometimes I think it would 'ave been better if I'd never been born." He heaved a sigh and rested his head in his hands.

"You're wrong Gene," Santa said quietly as he put his hand on Gene's shoulder, "but if you insist."

A sudden gust of wind blew down the narrow side-street where Gene sat, sending swirls of snowflakes into the air, making him temporarily blind.

"What the…?" He struggled to his feet as the snow whirled, and then just as suddenly as the snow-storm had started – it stopped.

Leaving him totally alone.

**.. . . . . .to be continued**


	2. Christmas Present?

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews and comments for this story – they're really appreciated. One more chapter after this, which I really do hope to post before Christmas.**

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**Chapter 2 – Christmas Present?**

Gene rubbed at his eyes and looked each way down the street. For a moment there was a deathly hush in the midst of the crowded city and Gene shook his head, tapping his ears to restore the normal levels of noise. Sound and sensation suddenly flooded back as he looked up into the clear night sky. It had stopped snowing – but on further inspection there was still no sign of his recent companion and yet it should have been easy to spot a chubby bloke in a red suit shouldn't it?

"Oh, what does it matter anyway," he said to himself. "Bloody Christmas-loving weirdoes the lot of yer."

He continued to walk with head down and shoulders hunched until he reached the end of the narrow side street. Frowning, he looked this way and that but still couldn't find what he was looking for. The Quattro. He was just about to give up or even better, contact the station and report it stolen when he saw a glimpse of light and a movement out of the corner of his eye. Curiosity got the better of him and he went to investigate.

"Cedric's Place." Gene couldn't remember having seen it before – but that was quite understandable given that he was stood outside of what would appear to be the smallest café he had ever seen. It was more of a stall than an actual café – if you could fit four customers in there, it would be considered crowded. Still, it looked warm and inviting and a cup of tea might clear his head. Besides, someone might know something about the whereabouts of his beloved car.

"'Ello? Anyone at home?" Gene barked as he stuck his head around the door.

"Oh goodness – a customer!" A small, but jolly white-haired man with periwinkle blue eyes popped up from behind the compact counter.

"You are still open I take it?"

The man peered at Gene inquisitively from behind half-moon glasses. "Gene? Gene Hunt?"

"Yeah – who's asking? And more to the point, 'ow do you know my name?"

Cedric chuckled as he set pouring a huge mug of steaming tea. "No great mystery Gene – Nick told me to expect you – and here you are. Sit down, sit down my boy." He emerged from behind the counter and placed the tea in front of Gene. "My name is Cedric. Tea, six sugars wasn't it?"

Gene tentatively sipped the tea and found it exactly to his taste. There was definitely something not quite right here – and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. "So. You know Nick then?"

"Oh yes," Cedric said amiably. "I've know him for years and years. In fact you could say I help him out from time to time."

Gene grunted uncommittedly.

"He said that you did him a good turn and so now he has done you a favour in return."

"A favour?" Gene snorted, "I ended up on me backside and cracked me 'ead on the pavement." He tentatively touched the back of his head but there was nothing – no blood, no tenderness, nothing at all to suggest any injury in fact.

"Oh there's nothing there now," Cedric said. "Well, there couldn't be, could there?"

"What?"

"Don't you remember? Now let me think…what was it? Ah yes, you said it might have been better if you'd never been born."

Gene frowned. "Yeah? So what of it?"

"Well Nick has special powers – especially on Christmas Eve. He just gave you what you wanted for Christmas. You were never born, Gene."

"Come again?"

"You were never born – you don't exist. Just think of it. No more worries about protecting the innocent and upholding the law, no one asking you to save them from themselves and none of those pesky friendships to get in your way. Well, they only turn out badly don't they?"

"Listen mate, I don't know what you're on but I think you'd better head on home and sleep it off – which is exactly what I'm gonna do."

"Sleep it off? I couldn't possibly spare the time – and neither can you. Besides, you don't have a home now."

"Eh?"

"I told you Gene – you don't exist. You have no past – only the present."

"You know what mate – I think you're bloody cracked." Gene stood and searched his pockets for some loose change to pay for the tea.

"You haven't got any money now…"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Or keys or warrant card or car. I told you Gene, you no longer exist."

"We'll see about that." He quickly turned on his heels and reached for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To the station."

"Oh I don't think that's a good idea. They might…."

The door slammed in Cedric's face.

"…not like that," he finished lamely. "Oh this isn't going to be an easy one is it Nick?" He quickly grabbed his coat and ran after Gene. "Wait for me!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gene stood looking up at the forbidding façade of Fenchurch East station and waited for Cedric to catch up with him. He hadn't really objected when Cedric decided to tag along – in fact, apart from his nutty pronouncements, he was quite good company and Gene felt a little sorry for him. It was quite obvious that he didn't have two farthings to rub together, even if the café was his – which Gene doubted. He'd get Viv to make sure Cedric was okay and try and find out who he actually was. In the meantime, he'd go back to his office and either bed down for the night there (it wouldn't be the first time) or find his spare keys and go home.

"So this is it?" Cedric said "Your home from home?"

"Nope. Just where I work. Nothing more."

"You sure about that? You seem to spend an awful lot of time here – although not as much recently."

Gene nodded. Cedric wasn't the first person to comment on how much time he spent at the station – but that had all changed now. Although he still spent hours in his office, it no longer felt comfortable. Ever since the business with SuperMac, Chris and now Alex, he didn't know who to trust.

"Are we going in?" Cedric asked.

"Yeah. Back way though." If there was anything untoward going on in his station, he didn't want to let them know he was coming.

Considering he had only left the station a few hours ago, it felt strangely different. Gene's frown deepened as he climbed the stairs and walked along the deserted corridors of power. It was cold and lifeless and there was a subtle air of oppression lingering over the whole building. He shrugged his coat closer and made a mental note to get Viv to do something about the heating.

As he approached CID he stopped and listened. Voices.

"What is it Gene?"

"Shush. Someone in there."

He carefully pushed open the door into the darkened CID office and they walked quietly into the centre of the room. There was something wrong…something very wrong indeed. Even in the gloom he could tell that everything was far tidier than normal; desks and chairs neatly lined up, pens and papers neatly stacked, coffee cups washed and ashtrays emptied. It was unnatural. And then his nose started twitching as a faint but distinctive smell assaulted his nostrils. He'd know that smell anyway.

Paco Rabanne.

"Litton!" Gene hissed. "I'd know that stink anywhere. If he's been anywhere near my bloody office…"

"Who's out there?"

Gene strode towards his office and the sound of the voice from within. He forcefully pushed the door open to find DCI Litton, ex Regional Crime Squad and old nemesis, sitting behind his desk.

"What the blood 'ell are you doing in my office Litton?"

"I might well ask you the same thing? You are…?"

"You've gotta be kiddin' 'avn't you? I knew the brain cells were a bit on the sparse side but…"

"Be careful Gene," Cedric warned, "it's not what you think."

"Who are you?" Litton demanded.

"Okay. I'll play along with yer little game. DCI Gene Hunt and me name's on the …." Gene stared at the door in disbelief. Where once his name had been proudly emblazoned, it now read 'DCI Archibald Litton'.

"You were saying?" Litton said with a smirk.

"I told you Gene," Cedric piped up.

"Where's my team?" Gene demanded. "Where's Poirot, Lewis? What happened to Carling and Skelton?"

"Carling? He left the force a few years ago – joined the army I heard. Mind you, didn't do him any good in the end."

"Why?"

"Falklands war. Took a bullet and died in fear and agonising pain."

"It's not true," muttered Gene. "He wanted to join the army years ago but I persuaded him to stay. He didn't go in the end."

"That never happened Gene," Cedric said, "you weren't there to persuade him to stay."

Ignoring him, Gene turned to Litton. "What about Chris Skelton? He's still here surely?"

"Skelton? I'm surprised you'd want to be associated with such a pathetic example for a human being."

"There's nothing wrong with Skelton – he's got the makings of a good copper when he puts his mind to it."

"Oh that may be – but he just couldn't deal with the realities of life in the modern police force my friend."

"What d'yer mean?"

"Well let's just say that he wasn't happy with certain regular and highly profitable transactions amongst certain officers in this station."

"Backhanders?"

"That's a nasty word. Myself and my esteemed colleagues much prefer to call them 'inducements' if you will. Top and bottom of it was that Skelton just couldn't handle the pressure. He got in too deep and killed himself last week. Silly boy."

"No! You're lying. I saved him. I managed to stop the rot and I saved him."

"He's better off where he is," Litton sneered. "I've got very little sympathy for someone like that – someone who can't take the heat. In the words of SuperMac…."

"Mac? Charlie Mackintosh was dead the last time I checked."

"Dead? I think you must be mistaken Hunt. When I saw SuperMac at the Commander's Christmas drinks earlier this evening he seemed in the very best of health. And the way things are looking, he'll be Chief Super in the New Year so I'd watch my mouth if I were you."

"Hell will bloody well freeze over first."

"I don't like your tone of voice DCI Hunt."

"Come on Gene," Cedric interrupted, "we'd better be going now."

Litton walked closer to Gene. "I think I'll need to see your badge."

"Badge? You wanna see my badge you two-faced little twat?" Gene began to rummage in his pockets, turning away slightly as he did so. "Here it is!" He clenched his fist and before Litton could turn away, it had connected neatly with Litton's jaw sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Oh Gene! You shouldn't have done that. Now he's going to be angry."

"Just run Cedric. Leg it...now!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Come on if you're coming. I need a drink." At least one if not more Gene reckoned and he knew just where to find one. Even if Luigi's wasn't officially open this late, he also knew that the owner could be persuaded to open up.

Cedric followed close behind as Gene made his way down the stairs towards the restaurant, almost bumping into him as Gene came to a sudden halt.

"What's wrong?"

Gene stood for a moment and listened outside the door. As with the station, something didn't quite feel right. The lights were on, so at least that was a good sign, but as he pushed open the door, there was an indefinable something in the atmosphere – an air of menace, the scent of imminent danger that was totally alien to the normally welcoming restaurant. The impression was only heightened as he made his way to the bar and he noticed the dark unfriendly glances as he made his way past the wary clientele.

"What you want here?" the barman snapped at Gene.

"Scotch...double. And make it quick. Cedric?"

"Oh my...it's been such a long time since I drank alcohol. I'm quite out of practice."

"Well what d'yer usually have?"

"Mulled wine?"

Gene raised an eyebrow but turned to the bar tender. "I don't suppose..."

"Listen, we do alcohol...proper alcohol. Now tell me what you want or sling yer hook. We don't like your sort around here."

"My sort?" Gene leaned closer. "And what 'sort' would that be?"

"Coppers," he spat.

Gene glanced around at the clientele. Now that he noticed, there wasn't one face from Fenchurch East – or any other station come to think of it. Erring on the side of discretion he decided not to argue the toss. "Two whiskies."

As they sat down at the nearest table with their drinks, Gene kept a wary eye on his surroundings. "This isn't Luigi's," he muttered.

"Of course it isn't," Cedric said amiably, "Luigi didn't have you to protect him."

"What?"

Cedric took a small sip of whisky. "Oh my...this is very good."

"Luigi?" Gene pressed.

"Oh yes. I'm afraid he was persuaded to move on when his Italian friends came to town. They liked this place and so they took it."

"What? Right under the nose of the station?"

"Let's just say that they came to an arrangement with the local law enforcement agencies. Bad things happen in here now Gene."

"But why? I still don't get it."

"You touched a lot of people's lives Gene – more than you could possibly realise. But that all changed when Nick granted your wish. You were never born, never alive to save lives or keep people on the straight and narrow. Never there to help out or to be there when you were needed. That's why Luigi isn't here – his life turned out differently because you weren't there. Ray, Chris, SuperMac and even Litton – all different now because of you."

Gene took a huge gulp of whisky and closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that this nightmare he found himself in would end. But when he opened his eyes, Cedric was still there. "You seem to know a lot about this – I reckon you know more than you're lettin' on."

"Me? Oh no...not really."

"Never kid a kidder Cedric. Okay, so suppose I believe you and I've never been born. What next?"

"Next? There's nothing next Gene. Just think of this as a unique opportunity to see how life turned out without you. No worries, no career, no family..."

"What do you know about my family? My mother..."

"You don't have a mother Gene – she only had one son and he was taken into care when...oh dear!"

"When what? Why was Stu taken into care?"

"I shouldn't really say."

"You'd best start taking before I rip yer tonsils out."

"Oh my! Your mother died Gene – I'm so sorry."

"'ow?"

"When Stuart was a child I'm afraid. Your father came home drunk one night and in his drunken rage he pushed your mother down the stairs. She died instantly."

Gene closed his eyes against the sudden pain. "Mam."

"Your father panicked and ran – but he was caught and sent to jail. Stuart was taken into care but fell in with the wrong crowd and died from an overdose when he was 16."

"It's not true. I was there that night. Mam nearly fell but I caught her."

"I'm sorry Gene."

Gene finished his drink in one gulp, grimacing as the liquid burnt a path down his throat. He looked around in confusion as the unfamiliar faces in the restaurant continued with their business. How could this be happening? He would wake up in a minute – he was convinced. But even if he wasn't dreaming, how could the fact that he'd never been born change things? He'd never really stopped to think about his affect on other peoples' lives before. He just did what he did – no philosophising, no wondering about his place in the grand scheme of things – he just did what he had to do and that was that. But now…

He stood abruptly as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Alex!"

"Hmmm?"

He looked down at Cedric who was still sipping his whisky contentedly. "I said Alex – I have to see Alex." Without waiting to see if Cedric followed, Gene spun on his heels and left the restaurant.

"Oh dear," Cedric said to no one in particular, "I'm not so sure this is a good idea."

Good idea or not, Cedric stood and followed Gene out of the door – but not before one last slurp of the delicious drink that Gene had provided. It had been many, many years since he had tasted something quite so enervating and he didn't want to waste a drop.

He was just in time to see Gene disappearing up the stairs. "Wait for me…Gene…please." Puffing and panting he finally caught up with Gene at the top of the stairs. "I really don't think this…"

"I've got to see her…speak to her. She'll tell me what's going on." He banged furiously on the door.

"She isn't here Gene…I keep trying to explain."

"She's 'ere – she must be." Gene banged on the door again. "Bolly! Open up…it's me." Just as he was about to hammer down the door, it opened.

"What you want?"

For a moment Gene was speechless as he was confronted with the sight of a bleary-eyed, lanky middle-aged man with dark hair and an Italian accent and wearing a dressing gown.

"Where is she?" He barged past the man into the flat. "Where's Alex? What 'ave you done with her you bastard."

"What are you doing crazy man? This is my home."

"No. No. Alex Drake lives 'ere and I want to know where she is so…"

"And I want you to leave my home…" The man reached into a draw and drew out a gun, "…now." He pointed the weapon at Gene's chest and gestured towards the door.

Reluctantly, Gene allowed himself to be ejected from the flat and found Cedric waiting for him. He slumped down heavily on the stairs as Cedric sat next to him. He took a deep breath and braced himself to ask the question he knew he must.

"What 'appened to 'er? What 'appened to Bols?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

Mute and despondent, Gene simply nodded.

"Alex Drake was a good police officer – but you already know that. Determined, intelligent and incorruptible."

"And a right royal pain in the arse," Gene said, but the tone in his voice was affectionate.

"Indeed," Cedric continued. "When she arrived here, she was confused and distraught. There was no one to guide her you see? She tried her best but she had no support – no one to believe in her."

Gene winced. He hadn't been particularly supporting or believing lately.

"In the end, she was too good at her job. SuperMac had her suspended on trumped up charges of corruption. She tried to fight back, to foil Operation Rose…"

Gene's head jerked up. "She 'ad a bee in her bonnet about that one."

"And rightly so as it turns out. You remember what happened?"

"'course I do," he snapped. "Gold bullion and corrupt coppers on the make. Alex seemed to know what was 'appening but I didn't believe her. Some bloke called Boris Johnson ended up threatening to…" he paused as he remembered. "Oh Christ…no!"

Cedric nodded sadly. "You weren't there to save her Gene – not this time. Of course it wasn't the first time you'd saved her life, but somehow she had managed to muddle through…until that day. She was shot dead by Martin Summers, her name besmirched as she was branded yet another corrupt police officer."

"No. Not my Bolly. I don't believe it."

Cedric touched Gene's arm lightly. "You see Gene, Each man's life touches so many others – especially yours. Because of you Ray is alive and well, Chris is happily married and has survived his brush with corruption. Your mother is alive and lives a happy and contented life and Alex…well Alex is alive and where she needs to be. And that's without all of the people you have saved or helped along the way. You really had a wonderful life."

"Please…I wanna go back..I understand now." Gene stood and staggered down the stairs and out into the night, gasping great lungfuls of cold, crisp air.

"Do you I wonder?" Cedric followed Gene outside – only to find that they were not alone. There were at least half a dozen men standing opposite Gene – all wielding baseball bats. As he reached Gene's side, one man stepped forward.

"Mac," Gene said, a hint of defiance in his voice even now.

Mac inclined his head. "DCI Litton tells me that you're a fellow police officer? Now isn't that fine and dandy. Except that I can't find any trace of you."

"Well, I get about."

"Really? Well, I don't like strangers snooping around and generally disturbing the status quo of my patch."

Gene shook his head. "Still 'all square' then Mac? You were corrupt then and you're corrupt now. Rotten to the bleedin' core."

"You talk a good talk Hunt, but now the talking is over." He gestured to his companions and they started to move towards Gene, baseball bats raised in readiness.

"Oh Gene," Cedric whispered, "This doesn't look good."

Gene met Mac's eyes and smiled. "If you're 'ard enough, you can try." He jutted out his chin and stood defiantly as Mac's men approached.

Suddenly, Cedric shot forward and kicked Mac in the shin. "Run Gene, run!"

"Cedric! You daft bastard!"

"Ouch!" SuperMac reeled as Cedric bit into his hand.

Gene peered into the melee, reluctant to leave Cedric to face the gang alone, but he could hardly see a thing. Cedric was like a whirling dervish, darting here and there like a man possessed. The wind suddenly picked up and sent the snow flying and twirling into the sky, a blizzard that temporarily blinded Gene. He slowly staggered backwards as the storm seemed to push him away.

"Run Gene…I'm right beside you…run."

**. . . .to be continued.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all the great comments and reviews – final chapter here which is full of Christmas fluff. Hope you enjoy. I apologise in advance for any mistakes as I rushing to publish before Christmas sets in with a vengance.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"_Run Gene…I'm right beside you…run."_

For once in his life Gene did exactly as he was told – he ran with Cedric's voice ringing in his ears, the wind and snow pushing him onwards even as his legs began to falter and his chest began to heave with the sheer effort of his endeavours. In the back of his mind was the unsettling thought that he didn't really know what he was running from – was it from Mac or from himself? He wasn't a coward by any stretch of the imagination and had always faced up to impending physical force with a show of bravado – which left him with the uncomfortable realisation that he was trying to outrun the voice in his head.

Just as he realised that he could never escape his own thoughts he stopped, gasping and heaving as he gulped burning lungfuls of air. He looked up and was shocked to find himself standing outside of Cedric's small café – the very place that this strange adventure had started.

"Cedric!" He banged repeatedly on the little café door. "Oi…Cedric…you in there?" He listened attentively in the quiet still of the night – you could almost hear the proverbial pin drop. But there was still no reply. Gene staggered off into the night – his pace slower but still casting a wary eye over his shoulder. He hoped Cedric had just run off to wherever he lived – he'd grown quite fond of the little bloke when all was said and done.

Gene staggered blindly on, no longer sure of who he was and where he was going. All he knew was that he wanted his life to be the way it used to be. He wanted Ray, wisecracking and bullish, sitting with his feet up on the desk. He wanted Chris, earnest, contrite but willing to learn from his mistakes. But most of all he wanted Alex to be alive – he didn't care if she hated him or never spoke to him again. As long as she was alive.

Finally, defeated, exhausted and uncaring of the snow on the ground, he sat down on the pavement, head in hands.

"I want it back Cedric – my life. I don't care how difficult it is and I don't care that Alex might hate me – I'll try and make it right." He raised his head and looked up into the clear night sky. "Nick…Santa…or whatever yer bleedin' name is…just give me back my life. Give me a chance to make things right." He covered his face with his hands as the snow slowly started falling once more.

"You okay down there sir?"

Gene looked up in surprise, only to find a young uniformed PC looking down at him.

"Suppose Mac sent you?" Gene leapt to his feet and turned to face the young officer. "Well you can bugger off unless you want a good hiding."

"No need for that…hold on a minute. Its DCI Hunt isn't it?"

"Yeah – what of it?"

"I thought I recognised you…Fenchurch East isn't it? You were up here a few months ago investigating that murder in the strip club?"

"You know who I am? You recognise me?"

"Course sir. Lot of officers standing a lot taller because of you – what you did in Operation Rose."

"What? Nearly killed a fellow officer?"

The young man smiled and shook his head. "Accident the inquiry said and quite right too. No, you ferreted out those corrupt bastards in Fenchurch West. Dread to think what might have happened if you hadn't been there DCI Hunt."

Gene relaxed slightly but then his eyes widened in shock. "Wait a minute – you know me…you know my name."

The PC nodded. "Like I said…you sure you're alright sir?"

"I'm alive…I'm bloody well alive!" He hesitatingly touched the back of his head and winced as his fingers discovered bruising, positively laughing as he looked at the trace of blood on his fingers. Gene closed his eyes and gave thanks to Cedric, Nick or whoever it was that made wishes come true.

"I can get a squad car if…."

Gene laughed, grabbed the PC by the shoulder and planted a firm kiss on his cheek. "You beauty." Finally releasing the somewhat surprised young man; Gene looked up into the night sky and grinned as the snowflakes softly fell on his face. "Snow. I love snow. What's your name?"

"Bailey sir…PC George Bailey."

"Well PC George Bailey, I'm a bit busy tonight, but you come and see me in Fenchurch East on Boxing Day and we'll raise a glass – How's that?"

"That'd be great sir – look forward to it." He watched bemusedly as Gene began walk away from him, kicking the snow into the air and laughing as it fell around him.

Gene hurried down the street and was relieved to find the Quattro parked exactly where he had left it. Rummaging in his pockets he found money, warrant card…and car keys. After settling into the drivers seat he glanced at his watch and was amazed to see that only five minutes had passed since his encounter with Nick. "Well, dunno what happened tonight but I do know that there's something…someone I need to see." He only hoped that she would still be willing to see him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alex turned over in bed and sighed loudly, huddling the cosy quilt around her as she tossed and turned restlessly. It was Christmas Eve for goodness sake! She'd sampled more of Luigi's mulled wine and rum laced egg nogg than was probably wise – and she still couldn't get to sleep. She lay flat on her back and looked at the ceiling. This would be her second Christmas since being shot and leaving Molly. If you had told her then that she would still be here after all this time, she would have laughed in your face. Hell, she probably would have cried in desperation. But now…now, she wasn't really sure what she felt.

When Gene accidentally shot her, she had been so sure that she would wake up in the 'real' world and be reunited with her daughter. Instead she had had to endure some sort of fake 2008, a world where a bullet to the head was no problem at all – no brain injury, no devastating side effects or paralysis – nothing. In other words – a lie. She hadn't wanted to believe that she had simply gone deeper into her coma but the past few weeks had given her ample time to think about her current situation. For whatever reason, it seemed that she was where she needed to be for now. She also had a sneaking suspicion that her ultimate fate was tied up to the one man that infuriated her and attracted her in equal measure. Gene Hunt.

Almost on cue, she heard a familiar banging at the door to her flat. She sat bolt upright and listened again. She was dreaming – wasn't she? No, there it was again. There was only one man who knocked at her door late at night – although he hadn't done so for many weeks now. She scrambled from the bed, carelessly slipping her feet into oversized slippers and made her way to the door.

"Bolly? You in there?"

"Coming…coming…keep your hair on." She flung open to the door to reveal Gene, breathless with excitement and covered in a light dusting of snow.

"Can I come in then?"

"Not so fast," she said, restraining him with one hand on his chest. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Nope. Late?"

"Very late, although technically speaking it could be early. Couldn't this wait until tomorrow?"

"Not really. Besides, its Christmas tomorrow." He tentatively smiled and found that he actually liked the sensation and so did it again. He also liked what he was seeing right now – Alex dressed in oversized striped pyjamas and her hair mussed from restless sleep. He swallowed hard and tried to concentrate. "You'll never believe what 'appened to me tonight."

"Let me guess. You were shot and ended up in 1982 – you're from the future," she said sarcastically.

"Ah…" Gene rapidly began to reassess his approach. He hadn't believed her – why on earth would she believe him? "I need to…that is I want to…bloody 'ell Bols, you gonna let me in or what? I'm freezing me bollocks off 'ere."

"I suppose so."

She opened the door to let him pass by, and couldn't resist a small smile of excitement as soon as his back was turned. She couldn't really deny that she had missed him – the arguments, the banter but most of all, the straightforward companionship that he provided. But she also realised that she wanted more – needed something more if she was to remain in this world.

He was stood in the centre of her small lounge, dominating the whole flat with his huge presence.

"You should take that coat off. And turn up the fire – you're freezing."

"Thanks…I will."

As he finally managed to shrug off his heavy overcoat, she noticed a stain on his shirt collar.

"What this?" She touched his collar and frowned. "This is blood Gene – what happened?"

"What? Oh that. Its nothing, just fell over and cracked me head that's all. I'm bleeding," he said with a wide grin.

"Well I can't see it's anything to smile about." She experimentally touched the back of his head and found more blood matted in his hair. "Come with me."

Gene followed her to the kitchen in a slight daze. Her was alive and he was in Alex's flat – and more to the point, it would seem that she didn't really hate him. It was better than he had hoped for – better than he deserved really."

"Sit down." She gestured towards a seat at the kitchen table.

"Think I like it when you're being forceful Bols."

"I bet. Here – drink this." She placed large tumbler of whisky in front of him.

Gene took a mouthful as he watched her potter about the kitchen. By rights, it shouldn't be sexy at all – distinctly unsexy and unrevealing winceyette pyjamas were not the stuff of his usual fantasies – but on Alex there was something strangely alluring about them. He took another gulp of whisky.

"Needed to say something Alex."

"Hold still."

He watched warily as she dabbed some cotton wool in antiseptic and then applied to the back of his head. "Ouch! You getting' your own back?"

"Maybe," Alex said with a half-smile, "hardly the same as being shot though."

"No." He stared glumly at the floor as he wondered how to frame the words. Maybe simple was best. "Sorry."

"Pardon?"

"I said I'm sorry…for everything."

Alex bit her lip as tears threatened to overwhelm her. "Thank you." She dabbed furiously at Gene's wound. "I'm sorry too."

"You? What 'ave you got to be sorry for?"

"For being a fruitcake," she said with a laugh. "For expecting you to believe the impossible."

He reached for her hand and pulled her gently into the seat next to him. "Tell you what Bols, after tonight the impossible doesn't seem quite so impossible after all." He took her hands in both of his and gently rubbed warmth into them.

"What did happen to you tonight?"

"Lets just say I had an encounter with Saint Nick and a bloke called Cedric that I'll probably never forget."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Gene laughed. "Then you know what I feel like 90 percent of the time you talk to me." He continued to rub her hands gently before reluctantly disengaging. "Its late…I'd better go."

"Go? But you can't…I mean its snowing and you're injured and…stay."

"Stay?"

"Yes. Stay here. On the sofa."

Gene had to admit that he was tempted. He was suddenly and overwhelming tired and the thought of going outside into the cold again wasn't very appealing. "On the sofa?"

"It wouldn't be the first time you've slept over?"

"True." Although this did feel different somehow.

"I'll get the spare quilt," Alex said before he could change his mind.

When she returned Gene had made himself comfortable, removing boots, tie and jacket, his long legs stretched out as he relaxed on the sofa. She handed over pillows and quilt and then hovered nervously.

"You'll be warm enough?"

"I'll be fine love – you get off to bed."

Reluctantly Alex made her way back to the bedroom and quickly slipped underneath the comfy duvet. She closed her eyes, expecting that sleep would now come quickly. But it didn't. After what seemed like an age of tossing and turning she finally gave up. Maybe hot milk would do the trick? She quietly crept from the bedroom, fully intending to bypass the lounge and go directly into the kitchen. At least that's what she told herself.

But of course, the sight of Gene sprawled on the sofa was far too delicious to resist. She tiptoed closer, hardly daring to breath, until she was looking down on him. She fought hard to repress a wistful sigh as she looked at his face; he was totally relaxed and oblivious to his surroundings, his features composed and peaceful, and a half-smile on his lips that sent butterflies racing around her stomach. She brushed away the hair from his brow and sat down beside him.

"I don't know why I'm here," she said quietly, "but as long as I am, then I'm going to live every moment."

She carefully lifted the quilt and slipped in next to him, wrapping her arms around him as she snuggled up to his chest. "Merry Christmas Gene." She quickly and effortlessly fell asleep.

Gene's eyes flickered open for a moment as he registered the warm presence in his arms. "Merry Christmas Bols." His arms tightened around her until he too fell sound asleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It wasn't the unnatural brightness shining through the blinds that woke Gene. Nor was it the distant sound of Luigi tunelessly warbling 'Adeste Fideles' as he made his way down to the restaurant. No. It was the unaccustomed sensation of holding Alex in his arms that roused his body to life. As he lay there willing his body not to get too overexcited, he realised that it was Christmas Day. It was Christmas Day and he was lying with Alex in his arms! If this was a dream, then it was one he definitely didn't want to wake up from.

However, not wanting to push his luck too far, he resolved to extract himself from this delightful but potentially embarrassing situation toot suite. As he edged closer to the edge of the sofa and tried to untangle Alex's legs from his own, she groaned softly and held him even closer.

"Go back to sleep love."

"Time is it?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Early."

He watched as her eyes gradually flickered open and gradually focused on his face. Christ – he would give anything to wake up to that every morning.

"Morning petal. Merry Christmas."

Alex yawned and stretched and then smiled. "Morning." She closed her eyes but quickly opened them again. "Christmas! Its Christmas Day?"

"Last time I checked." Gene watched with amusement as she shot up from the sofa and ran over to the window and looked out. "Oh look," she turned around to Gene, beckoning him over, "its been snowing. It's beautiful."

"Yes. Yes it is," he said, not even looking at the snow.

Alex turned to face him, a glow of anticipating lighting up her face. "Merry Christmas Gene." She held his face as she leaned forward and hesitantly kissed his lips.

For a moment he thought he was still dreaming, but as a familiar warmth began to flood his body he knew that this was real – she was real. He only had one life and he had wasted so much of it already – his previous resolve to resist Alex was already crumbling to so much dust. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her body closer, his lips now responding to hers with practised ease.

They slowly broke apart, flushed and smiling.

"What time did you say it was?" she said teasingly.

"Early."

"Well in that case, I think we should go back to bed – don't you?" She led him by the hand until they reached the threshold of her bedroom.

"Alex." Gene came to a standstill as she continued to tug on his hand.

"Hmmm?"

"If we do this…if I come to your bed now, I'll never want to leave."

Alex nodded and then leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I know – and that's what I want."

He nodded slowly and allowed himself to be led towards her bed. Once there, all hesitation and doubt vanished as quickly as Luigi's mince pies. What little clothing they were both wearing was quickly dispensed with, as skin brushed against skin with giggles and gasps of appreciation. They both dived underneath the covers to escape the winter chill, with Gene taking the opportunity to brush Alex's long limbs with his hands until she was tingling top to toe.

"Warm now?"

"Almost," she said. "I think you might have missed a bit though."

"Here?" His fingers passed lightly over her breasts, causing her to arch in pleasure.

"Or here?" he murmured, as his hands wandered down her body, caressing her hips and bringing her body closer to his.

Alex moaned and then did a little exploring of her own, her fingers tracing his shoulders and arms, her back arching as his lips found her neck. Her fingers itched to touch him, her legs entwined around him as she sought to bring him closer still. They had all the time in the world and yet she simply couldn't slow down. She needed him right here – right now.

Gene could feel her urgency as she whimpered and gasped but he was determined to savour the moment. He stilled her moans with his mouth, kissing her long and thoroughly before slowly moving down over her body. He nipped and teased his way to her breasts, almost sighing in contentment as he slowly brought each nipple to a peak, Alex's cries of pleasure music to his ears.

But Alex wasn't about to allow Gene the upper hand. She had waited so long – denied herself for so long – and she wasn't about to deny herself the pleasure of touching Gene for much longer. She caressed his back, his thighs, his arse and then finally she took him in hand. As their tongues twisted and duelled, so she stroked his hard length in a matching rhythm, a feeling of triumph and pleasure as he responded by thrusting into her hand. She could feel her own desire pooling between her thighs and knew that there was no reason to wait.

"Gene…please."

He needed no further encouragement and he rolled her onto her back, settling himself between her thighs as he positioned himself above her. They clasped hands tightly as he rolled his hips and teased her, repeatedly brushing himself against her and then withdrawing until they were both mad with desire. Finally, he could bear it no longer and he entered her in one fluid stroke.

Alex gasped as she adjusted to the feel of him, smiling like the cat that got the cream as she wrapped her legs tightly around his hips. And then he began to move – or at least she thought it was him, but it so easily could her been her. They moved so seamlessly that it was hard to tell who moved, where one body ended and another began. It was too perfect and too long awaited to last long and she bucked and arched underneath him, grasping and clawing as she sought to bring him closer. His hips moved relentlessly, grinding against her, as his hand gripped hers once more. She screamed her release when it came and Gene felt the vibrations ricochet through his own body, tipping him over the edge into an exhausting shuddering climax.

As they slowly drifted off into a happy satiated sleep, Gene knew only two things. One, that it had been by far, the best Christmas Day he had ever had. And two, that he would do anything at all to keep Alex happy for the rest of her life.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There was a definite spring in his step as Gene left Alex's flat on Boxing Day, and strode jauntily along the pavement towards Fenchurch East station. Christmas Day had been the best in living memory, and he had Alex had made love, slept and then made love some more, only emerging to head to Luigi's for Christmas lunch. It was a dubious pleasure that Gene would have quite happily forfeited, but Alex gently insisted and Gene could only give in to her wishes – with the promise of special treats to come as an enticement.

"Morning Skip," Gene said merrily as he passed Viv manning the desk. "Merry Christmas."

Viv did a double take as Gene waltzed by and into CID. "Guv?" He hadn't seen DCI Hunt looking that happy since…well, he couldn't remember having him seem look that happy at all – ever.

Gene made himself a cup of tea and then settled down to wait in his office. If he knew Chris Skelton as well as he thought he did, then he could have a little fun. He looked at the clock on the wall – 9 o'clock and still no sign of Chris. Gene smiled to himself as he contemplated his next move – and the fact that he had won his bet with Alex regarding Chris' timekeeping abilities. He would definitely be extracting a forfeit from her later. He rubbed his hands together to warm them and watched from the open door of his office as he waited for Chris to appear.

It was precisely 9.18 when Chris finally crept into the office, sliding behind his desk and picking up a file as if he had been there forever.

Gene slowly walked out of his office and stood by Chris' desk.

"What time d'yer call this?"

"Sorry Guv. I know I'm a bit late."

Gene looked pointedly at the clock. "Late!" he bellowed, "I'll bloody well say yer late."

"I'm really sorry Guv. Only…it's only once a year and well…think I might have had a few too many yesterday and…

"You know what Skelton? I'm sick and tired of your excuses. You know what I think?"

Chris shook his head and waited for the axe to fall. "No Guv."

"I think," Gene said as he leant on Chris' desk and moved menacingly closer, "I think…that you've suffered enough. Merry Christmas Chris."

"Eh? I really am sorry Guv but…"

"I said you've suffered enough you div. You're no longer on probation and you've learned your lesson – just don't be getting into that sort of mess again otherwise I'll have your balls on a plate for breakfast. Now, what do we 'ave to do to get some heating on around 'ere?"

"I'll get a heater from the Skip shall I?"

"Good lad and then we'll 'ave a chat about how to get your career back on track eh?"

"Yes Guv."

Chris sprinted from the office but soon returned with an electric heater, which was quickly plugged in as Gene passed Chris his flask of whisky to toast the Christmas season. Soon Shaz arrived with a plentiful supply of turkey sandwiches, Ray arrived with cans of beer and not too much later Alex arrived bearing champagne and mince pies. Shaz turned on the radio and as others in the station began to wander into CID to investigate the sounds of jollity, Alex and Gene sat next to each other on the nearest desk and toasted each other in champagne.

"To you Bolly," he said, quickly kissing her on the cheek.

"To us," she said, clinking her glass against his.

"So, you won't be transferring then?"

"Ooh I don't know – what's it worth?"

"You attempting to bribe a senior officer DI Drake?"

"As if! However if you wanted to stop by later with your truncheon and take down my particulars…"

Gene spluttered into his champagne. "Saucy wench. You're on."

He discreetly placed his hand over Alex's and squeezed her fingers as they watched the rest of the team celebrating. Chris and Shaz were smooching to a song on the radio, Ray was berating Viv and casting aspersions on his choice of football team as the rest of CID and uniform munched on mince pies and swapped stories of their own Christmas experiences.

"Penny for them?" Alex enquired.

"Just thinking. Its not a bad life is it?"

"A life worth living?"

He nodded. "Definitely."

He smiled broadly as Alex filled up his glass with champagne and then circulated around the room, chatting to the others as she passed by. He really was the luckiest man on earth. He raised his glass in a silent toast.

"Cheers Cedric." He downed the contents of his glass as Alex returned to his side.

"What are you smiling at?"

"I'm smiling because I've got the most beautiful woman in the world by my side.

Alex threw her head back and laughed. "Oh I really could kiss you Gene Hunt."

"Well, what's stopping yer?"

So to the sounds of Slade on the radio and much to the amusement and cheers of the rest of CID, Gene and Alex kissed and kissed and kissed and…….well, you get the picture.

_Merry Christmas Everyone._

**THE END**

**A very Merry and Peaceful Christmas to everyone and a Happy New Year.**


End file.
